It was a very thoughtful Earl of Longminster who stood at the drawing room window as Sir Frederick's carriage brought Jane and Nicci home. He had heard Marissa moving around upstairs but had made no attempt to speak to her. The servants had returned an hour ago and were busy preparing the evening meal.
Marcus went out onto the steps to greet the returning party, offering his hand to Miss Venables to assist her to alight. She thanked him, turned to bow to Sir Frederick and thank him in a stilted voice for his kindness in conducting them back to the Lodge. Nicci, her face flushed under her ridiculous hat, bobbed a schoolgirl curtsey before scuttling into the house, her hot face averted from his puzzled gaze.
Sir Frederick was still standing in the open carriage as Marcus came down the steps to offer the baronet his thanks. ‘Will you not come in and take a glass of wine? I am most obliged to you for escorting Miss Venables and my sister.’
‘No trouble, Longminster, a pleasure,’ the banker replied with a twinkle. ‘But I will not accept your kind offer, not just now. I rather think you will be glad to have no strangers in the house this evening.’ And on that enigmatic note he sat down, resumed his hat and called out, ‘Drive on, John!’
Marcus was barely in the hall when the storm broke. Nicci was halfway up the stairs, Miss Venables at the foot. ‘Come down here immediately, Nicole, and tell your brother how you have disgraced yourself.’
‘No, I shan’t!’ Nicci sobbed and plumped down on the stair, head in her hands.
‘Oh, Lord,’ Marcus muttered under his breath. He went to stand beside Miss Venables. ‘Nicci, come down here. Marissa is not feeling well and I do not want her disturbed by you making a hullabaloo out here. Miss Venables, let us go into the drawing room and you can tell me what has happened.’
Nicci descended reluctantly and stood sniffing while Miss Venables told him. ‘I found her – I can hardly bring myself to use the word, my lord, but there is no other way of putting it –in the embrace of a man. An officer, and behind the pavilion! Anyone could have seen her. My lord, I am so sorry that I have failed in my duty as a chaperone…’
Marcus cut across the anguished apology. ‘But did anyone else see them?’
‘Only Sir Frederick and I believe we may rely absolutely on his discretion. As soon as I realised she was missing, during the second race, he accompanied me in search of her. Oh, I would never have believed she could behave so… so…’ Miss Venables rummaged in her reticule until she found her smelling bottle and waved it wildly under her own nose.
‘Who was the man?’ Marcus enquire
d, keeping his voice calm. Now he supposed he would have to come the heavy brother with Nicci. Thank heavens Miss Venables had interrupted them or he would have found himself calling the man out on top of all the other things he had to concern himself with at the moment. ‘Nicci, stop snivelling, take that blasted hat off and answer me. Who was it?’ He had never spoken to her like that before, and his sister wrenched off the bonnet and cast it aside.
‘Captain Cross,’ she wailed.
‘And who the devil is he? Don’t tell me you just picked up some uniformed whippersnapper on the racecourse?’
‘A friend of Lady Valentine’s,’ Miss Venables said grimly, as if that summed it all up.
‘That woman? Lady she might be but she’s the instincts of a lightskirt.’
For once, Miss Venables did not wince at the word. ‘I fear,’ she ventured, ‘that Lady Nicole’s attire may have misled the Captain into thinking she was older and more worldly-wise than she is.’
Marcus regarded both of them with a smouldering eye. ‘And I suppose you are going to say it was all my fault for letting her out dressed like that?’ He gestured furiously at Nicci’s crumpled outfit.
Wisely Miss Venables did not respond to this question. She got to her feet and took Nicci’s arm. ‘Come along, Nicole, I think you had better take supper in your room tonight.’
Marcus waited until they had disappeared around the curve of the stairs before tugging the bell-pull to summon Jackson. ‘My compliments to Lady Longminster, and I shall not be dining at home this evening.’
‘Very good, my lord. May I say where you are going, should she enquire?’
‘No. But should you have need of me I shall be at Madame de Rostan’s.’
Marcus did not wait to take the carriage and threw a saddle on his hack himself. Twenty minutes later he entered the busy streets of Epsom, thronged with racegoers either flush with their winnings or drinking away their sorrows. The crowd forced him to rein back to a walk as he entered the quiet street where Diane had borrowed a friend’s house for the week.
Although he was not expected, he was admitted immediately and shown into the Salon. Despite having no guests for dinner, Diane was as beautifully attired as ever in a simple cream silk gown, her hair in artfully arranged ringlets, her family diamonds gleaming at her throat.
‘Chéri. What a surprise, but always a pleasure to see you.’ She rose gracefully from the chaise and offered her cheek for his kiss. ‘I must confess I had not looked to see you tonight. You will dine, of course?’
Marcus dropped into a chair, his booted legs stretched out in front of him. He knew Diane so well that he could interpret her tone as clearly as her words. ‘Why so surprised to see me tonight? And, yes, if you will excuse my informal attire, I would like to dine here.’
The butler appeared, received his instructions and vanished discreetly after pouring Marcus a glass of wine.
Diane waited until the door closed behind him before she replied. ‘You forget, I saw you leave the racecourse this afternoon with Lady Longminster.’ There was a wicked curve to her lips.
‘And?’ Marcus raised an eyebrow, galled that his intentions had been so transparent.
Diane laughed at him affectionately. ‘My dear Marcus, it is only I who would have realised the significance of you taking Marissa home in the early afternoon.’ Again her lips curved, this time in remembrance. ‘She really is a very charming young woman: I must congratulate you.’